One AU To Rule Them All
by Phoenix Satori
Summary: ...and in the Darkness, Bind Them.
1. First Love

For Irrel's AU Challenge on the katara zuko LJ.

And, of course, for the llama.

* * *

**First Love**

When Ozai expels his son from the party, the peculiar (savage) girl from next door happens by him on the sidewalk on a blue tricycle, a half-eaten golden _something_ hanging unappetizingly out of one side of her tiny, slobbering mouth, and she says,

"Sawkka says cryeen's for girls." He dislikes her more now then the first time he met her, when she was a wailing, unappeasable baby who supplanted words with obnoxious keening (Agni knows _Zuko_ was never like that).

He opens his mouth to tell her to go away (as spitefully and with as much crushing finality as a 5-year-old can muster in the wake of being cast-off by a revered parent), and she takes the opportunity to pop the sweaty, drool-infused, spongy cake right into it, and instinctively, he closes his lips, disgust and horror rocketing him to his feet, where he performs an amusing sort of frenzied dance, and he's about to spit the revolting confectionary treat from his mouth when the _flavor_ (beyond the thick, viscous, _acidic_ taste of little-girl-spittle) hits him like a ton of deliciously creamy-spongy bricks, and Katara cracks a grin (rife with gaps where teeth should be) as she bears witness to the first time Zuko falls in love.


	2. Alrighty, then

**Alrighty, then.**

"But mom, Azula says—"

"Azula's insane, dearest."

Zuko blinked.

"Oh."


	3. Um

**Um.**

"Aaaaah! Zuko!"

"Agni, Katara! What is it?"

"We're gonna die!"

"What? When?"

"I dunno! SOMEday!"

"…"


	4. Surely There Must Be Some Mistake

**Surely There Must Be Some Mistake**

"Katara," he began, and she tried to peer over Sokka's shoulder to behold him.

"What? What? D'you like it? D'you like my present?"

"Katara, this is a PSP. This is _my_ PSP."

"No, stupid." She rolled her eyes, plucked the device from his fingers and tossed it at Jet, who caught it with something in his eyes that was eerily close to reverence. "That's _his_ present."

"What? It's _my_ birthday –why does _he_ get a present?"

And, more importantly.

"And _hey_! Why'd you give him _my_ PSP?!"


	5. Fire&Water

**Fire&Water**

"I hate the rain," he grumbles, pouting, and pulls his legs more securely against his chest, just in case the overhang cannot block all of the pelting water.

"I _love_ it!" She declares, as she spins and twirls just past the invisible boundary separating her sopping, puddle-packed world from his own warm, blessedly dry abode.

"Then I hate you, too." He spits, but she only stops long enough to stick her tongue out at him, and then continues to pirouette on the wet grass, and he thinks –for just an instant—that the rain suits her, and that he will only ever enjoy it when it's dancing with Katara.


	6. Amiable Chat

**Amiable Chat**

"Momma's boy!"

"Dumb-dumb!"

"Brat!"

"Stupid _GIRL!"_

"Smelly _BOY_!"

"Twinkie-stealer!"

"Pyro-manic!"

"…what?"

"I dunno; it's what Sokka's always calling your sister."

"…oh."

"…"

"Insult-stealer!"


	7. Amiable Chat Part Deux

(meant to coincide with the previous drabble)

* * *

Kana smiled warmly over her cup of tea, humor in her twinkling blue eyes. Ursa returned the gesture with an elegant smirk, and then stood (a willowy, fluid sort of motion) and glided over to the stove.

"More tea, Kana?" On cue, the teapot whistled its assent, and Ursa hefted it carefully, easily by its handle.

"I would _love_ some," The darker woman rejoined, and sucked down the remnants of her current cup gracelessly. Kana smiled broadly at the comically disgusted look on Ursa's face as she held out the mug, and then turned with a wide grin to find her seat again as her host at last accepted the dish and set it aside to for refilling.

In the space where conversation usually belonged, both ladies were mutually silent as they instead listened to their children getting along --impossibly well-- in the backyard.

_"Dumb-dumb!"_

_"Brat!"_

_"Smelly BOY!"_

_"Stupid GIRL!"_

Finally, after several seconds, Ursa returned to the table with two steaming mugs of Kana's favourite tea (lavender –because it smelled cold-sweet, like the air of her childhood home), and the smile on her face was large, amiable, and oh-so-transparent.

"So…" She began, and Kana clicked her tongue.

"Don't even think about it. _I'm_ the mother of the bride."

"But—"

"_I_ get to plan the wedding, Ursa."

* * *

Such an irreverently _adorable_ dialogue Katara and Zuko are sharing whilst their mothers scheme about marriage in the kitchen.

(Too bad neither mommy will be there for the potentially explosive nuptials…eeh…too soon?)

I've had this scene in my head for DAYS, and it still didn't come out the way I wanted it to…but this will do, I suppose.

Yep, yep.


	8. Sofa

**Sofa **

When the Blue Spirit goes down, Katara squeals in horror just as Zuko's face crosses in confusion, at the impossible circumstance of his hero facing defeat, and at the curious way Katara curls against him on the sofa in nervous anticipation.


	9. Katara's In Charge

Propers to kirschreich for the inspiration.

And the drugs.

...what?

* * *

**It's My Party…but Katara's In Charge**

Katara was _not_ amused. Some female upstart was moving in on her territory.

"Momma's boy! Spoiled brat! Prince of the NERDS!" Squealed the Girl Who Was Not Katara.

More than hurt or offended, Zuko looked baffled at the incongruously pale features of Not Katara before him. Who was she, why was she screaming at him (at his _birthday party_, no less), and why did he think suddenly that she was kind of pretty?

He supposed it didn't matter in the end.

Half a minute later Katara introduced Not Katara to the punch bowl, the latter seemed shocked and made a swift (frantic) escape, and Things Returned to Normal when Katara stole his twinkie and then teased him for getting rusty in his old age for the rest of the evening.


	10. Apprehension

**Apprehension**

"D'you think he'll ever come back, Toph? Do you think he'll keep in touch?" Katara whispers, half hoping that the other girl hadn't heard.

But Toph's sense of hearing has always been somewhat more _keen_ than everyone else's, and even though the blind girl is silent for long enough for Katara to believe that maybe her hope has come true, eventually, the younger girl strides forward to sit beside her on the sidewalk.

"I think you'll have to beat him up if he doesn't."

Katara smiles for the first time in weeks.


	11. Mourning

**Mourning**

Some people burn incense for lost loved ones.

Zuko hated incense.

Katara burns a twinkie.


	12. Jet 01: Symbolism

Jet 

When he pulled back the (meticulously perfect –just how much time did that kid have on his hands now, anyway?) wrapping to behold what was within, he almost dropped it in surprise.

He'd stalked Zuko for a couple of _years _once upon a time for this damnable device; if he'd known that all he'd had to do to get the little rich kid to relinquish ownership of the sacred PSP was to have him inadvertently ruin his life, then he'd have been endeavoring to get him to burn down half of his childhood home_ ages _ago.

Eagerly, though he had long since abandoned such puerile interests and had gone on to bigger, better things –petty vandalism, clever pranks—he tore off the rest of the blue paper and cast the leavings aside with one hand, flicking the machine on with the other.

The screen flickered white for an instant as Jet plunged head-long into a warm nostalgia, and then, abruptly, lines of pink static began to scroll leisurely up the length of the window, and Jet was rudely ejected from remembered childhood escapades and brought back to the hissing object in his hands. He had _known_ Zuko, and he knew that the other boy was not, by nature, spiteful.

This meant something.

His eyes flickered briefly to the crumpled and discarded wrapping paper on the ground some few feet away, and back down to the broken machine, and he understood the message as clearly as if it had been written out for him: Zuko may have been gone, and Jet may now be in possession of the things he had once loved, but Zuko had had them _first_, when there were new and perfect and weren't…_damaged_. Jet could only have what was left in his wake—the broken aftermath.

Jet scowled, bit back the snarl trying to escape, and threw the PSP in the closest trashcan absently because, after all, this had nothing to do with the old machine.

By the time Jet makes it outside, he decides that the time is right to make Katara his girlfriend.


	13. Jet 02: Open to Interpretation

But Jet is merely emboldened by her initial rejection.

Jet had not received a "No, I'm sorry; I really think we're better as friends." He was also rather glad she hadn't stared blankly, or laughed, or punched him. Instead, when Jet approached Katara about being his girlfriend (oh-so-suavely and cool), he had received an encouraging,

"Are you _retarded_? Of course I won't go out with you. You're an idiot and a vandal and you never bathe! Plus, you never think about anyone but yourself, you think 'grooming' is a term for marriage, and you never even _looked_ at me until Azula dumped you, and _certainly _not at any point before that, in your stalker days, when Zu—"

She cut herself at this point, and Jet is determined not to marvel until later, in the privacy of a room he can tear to pieces, at how Zuko seems to somehow insert himself into Katara's thoughts even _now_, so long after departing.

Instead, he takes this to mean that she's obviously spent a lot of time thinking about this, about _him_, and decides that this Bodes Very Well For His Chances.


	14. Jet 03: Poor Approach

"You know you're crazy about me, Katara. It's okay to admit it. All you have to do is say 'Jet, you devilishly handsome dog, of _course_ I'll be your lady-friend,' and I'm all yours, princess."

The rumors about Haru's sexuality, incidentally, begin on this day, when he (being the only one on-hand knowledgeable in such things, as his mother is a nurse) is forced to perform CPR to resuscitate Jet in the aftermath of Katara's placid refusal.


	15. Jet 04: Foiled

"Hello, Fair One. Listen well, for I have composed for you a sonnet, in three acts."

"Sonnets don't have _acts_, you moron."

"…you could at least give me a _chance_."

"You probably just stole it from Shakespeare, anyway, in which case, it's likely that I read it myself last week in English, and am hence already familiar with it, and you reading just wastes both our time."

"…you're _good_."


	16. Jet 05: Note

He watches with smug fascination as her cheeks flame at what he has written in the note he has just passed to her, and when she meets his eyes, he startles somewhat, because she's…_smiling_.

He wonders if this means she's going to beat him up after school.


	17. Jet 06: Little Room for Doubt

"Hey, Katara, I—"

"No."


	18. Jet 07: No dammit

"Howdy, ma'am, I was curious—"

"_No_."


	19. Jet 08: Victory?

"Katara, I—"

She huffs, rubs her forehead, glares full-force.

"Jet, for the _last time_--!" He grabs her hand, shoves a shrink-wrapped twinkie into her palm, and speaks,

"I like you, Katara. This isn't a prank, and I'm not going to give up until _you_ give in." She opens her mouth to speak, and he isn't sure she even realizes she's crying. Lightly, he touches a finger to her lips, which are working like a fish's. "You don't have to answer now, k? We'll talk later." He brushes a swift peck across her lips before he hurries away, unable to watch her any longer with such a starkly haunted, grieved look on her face.

At lunch, when a grumbling Toph hands him her note of assent ("surrender," she calls it, and he grins), Jet finds that the crowing triumph he knows he _should_ be feeling is somehow outweighed by the sudden maddening insight that he has only managed to conquer her by dredging up a painful past, and this makes him angry –irrationally so—and also somewhat sorry.


	20. Unexpected

More College Fun…and Zuko-Abuse/Mind-Fcking. YAAAY!

(Angst, Zuko. ANGST.)

(…I'm not a good person?)

* * *

**Unexpected**

And when the girl bursts into the classroom (bedraggled, harried, out-of-breath), Zuko wonders seriously if he's ever seen anything quite so beauti—

--pause--

_ahem_

--rewind--

When the girl bursts into the classroom, over half-an-hour late, Zuko does not recognize her for anything beyond her peculiar hairstyle (twin locks of dark hair looped back around her ears, long braid oscillating heavily, hypnotically--like the movement of a pendulum—behind her) and the –_familiar?_—pendant-choker around the brown, brown skin of her small neck.

She says,

"Sorry I'm late!" as she veers right along the back side of the classroom (opposite him, which will perhaps delay her discovery of his –surely perturbing—circumspection), and there is something so undeniably, unnervingly confident and unruffled about the way that she speaks, about the way that she subsequently maneuvers (with feline grace, wending her way about the jutting seats and haphazardly placed backpacks and texts with –what seemed like—practiced ease and polished grace) her way to her seat, that he finds himself suddenly on edge for reasons he can't explain or understand.

Also, belatedly, he realizes that the tardy girl has a rather alarmingly large growth attached to the end of her arm, which trails along behind her like a lithe, fleshy tether as she drags the (ostentatiously, at the very least) unwilling thing –correction: the _boy_ (whose profile, upon closer inspection, looks rather suspiciously like a stalker he'd once had because of a gaming device he'd once owned)—with her toward their final destination.

Inexplicably, (almost _ardent_) distaste for her attache simmers to the fore (he wonders if it's really necessary for her to lead the boy to his seat like that, with her hand so assertively posited in his), but he catches himself before he starts to glare at the boy (honestly, he doesn't even _know_ the guy…_or_ the girl, he reminds himself quickly, and clears his throat uncomfortably when he feels the weight of Jin's eyes on his profile) and decides to refocus his attentions on the lecture –which had started back up again at some point without him having realized it.

"Zuko…" His companion whispers quietly, and he looks at her abruptly (and then he understands, far too late to make a difference, that this action must surely be suspect, and attempts to smile, though it comes out half-sheepish, half-apologetic, and all-forced, and her brows lift endearingly at the obnoxious expression that's left on his face as a result of his efforts).

"Yeah?" He responds softly, his fingers twitching absently around the shaft of his pen.

"Are you okay?" She wonders, and one of her hands locates his clenched fist underneath the table, whereupon he immediately releases it to appease her (when had he tensed, anyway?), and then she's familiarly threading her short fingers through his (a flash of blue and brownbrownbrown encased within pale white, and unbidden _anger_ at the thought of having lost something he'd never even had) –and he jerks his hand away as if her touch burns him (and the look of _pain_ that crosses her face makes him feel as helpless and clueless and unwittingly cruel as the first time she'd kissed him and he'd repelled her like she was some vile, unthinkable creature, and then tried to rectify the situation by running away from her as fast as his feet could carry him), and his hand snapping back catches the underside of the table and sharp pain lances up his arm and he's trying to bite back the instinctive yelp of pain even as the sound escapes his lips before he can stop it and his reaction –predictably—draws the attention of the professor, who's opening his mouth to speak (while Zuko stews in dread, because he knows that if everyone in the class isn't already looking at him, then they _will_ be, after either a query asking after his health or a terse order to shut up is issued), and he hasn't been so nervous since the aftermath of the incident involving Katara and the Mysterious Case of Multiplying Bunny-Squirrels---

--pause--

_Wait._

--rewind--

_No. _

No way.

He doesn't wait for an opportunity to second-guess himself, instead responding automatically to the teacher's concerned question and turning swiftly to see…to behold…

…that _guy_. That _guy_ is looking _right at him_, with something akin to fascinated, disbelieving wonder, the way someone might look at someone who's just been hit by a bus, but seems otherwise quite well, thanks, and Zuko's mouth is suddenly dry because he realizes (with all the force of the aforementioned bus) that he _knows_ this girl's (heretofore inexplicably heinous) tall, frazzle-headed growth, and he _knows_ that she wasn't just hurrying him along when she was holding his hand, and, most importantly, he _knows_ who _she_ is.

Two names zip across his mind in a fractured instant, both of which he hadn't allowed himself to think for years, and one of which he had hoped never to have to think again (because he's lost her, and it's his own fault because he gave up on her before she could be given the chance to reject him, like his father, like Azula, like everyone in his safe, happy world before he had burned it to the ground, and he can't believe she's sitting so close, so _near_ because now she's so untouchably far away from him and he hates himself anew and more profoundly than ever for ever having believed that maybe, just maybe, cruel Fate had finished with him). The boy –_Jet_—is still gaping openly, though perhaps now his brows are furrowed just slightly, and maybe Zuko is not just _imagining_ the curling upper lip, but he's only paying his old childhood chum passing attention; his focus is on…the _girl_, who is yet bent over the side of her chair, facing away from both of them, rifling through her over-large blue-green tote, long braid swinging languidly back and forth beside her face as she moves.

_Katara_, he thinks, and breaks a little.

"Zuko, hey Zuko…" Jin whispers frantically, worry –and fear—evident in her tone. "Zuko, is everything alright?" Zuko's eyebrows, in direct contrast to The Other, plunge down at sharp angles as Jet turns to his companion, makes a quiet remark (at which she laughs softly, mellifluously, and he feels like his eardrums might shatter), and proceeds to dutifully ignore the substantive nature of their silent exchange, and all its many emotionally-explosive implications; he seems, in fact, to be conveniently forgetting that said exchange has even occurred. Then, to demonstrate that his memory is just fine, he carefully shifts in his seat in such a way as to obscure her (potential) line of sight, and engages her in a hushed conversation that alternately seems to amuse and annoy her, and Zuko is stricken by how much she has changed (though that creased quirk of lip –a smug, victorious sort of expression—had apparently not been lost with time, he thinks with a twinge) as well as he how incredibly _agitating_ Jet has become in their time apart. "Zuko, Zuko, _please_…" Jin's voice finally breaks through to him, and he whips around with residual ire still clearly etched into the planes of his face, and she looks shocked, hurt (_again_), and also a little angry. Immediately, he feels the resentment melt away to be supplanted by a look of shame, and he reaches out (the distance is too short; he touches her too much) to grasp her hand, to hold it firmly between the both of his.

"I'm sorry, Jin." He says, and a wary smile lifts her full mouth. "I just…that _guy_…made me remember a time I thought I'd forgotten." He watches her sneak a furtive glance at Jet and return quickly, sheepishly to him.

"Are you—"

"I'm fine," He reassures her, and even manages to smirk somewhat convincingly. She doesn't seem entirely placated, but he's sure he'll think of something to ease her anxieties.

Maybe.

"I'm just fine." But later, when some semblance of normalcy has returned to the classroom and his gaze wanders back (as surreptitiously as possible, for the millionth time) across the room, where his past is sitting, he can't help but to understand that he is slowly learning to _hate_ Jet when the other boy slings his arm over Katara's shoulder…and she doesn't appear to be in any hurry to remove the offending appendage.

* * *

Poor Zuko.

Poor Jin.

Meanwhile.

Jet's a bastard, yes.

But I love him, anyway.

Any mebbe later he'll redeem himself.

...but then again, maybe not.

That remains to be seen/written/whatever.

haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaarg.

Next time I plan to have Zuko avoid Katara like The Plague, and possibly run into some walls (because that's terribly amusing), and maybe even land some solid punches (o' angst and bitter resentment) on purty lil' Jet.

Um.

Drink plenty of milk, chums.

Love to Irrel.

G'night, all.


	21. And Then Much Later

Irrel wanted smut.

So.

I attempted to write smut. _**wince**_

Zutara smut. _**cringe**_

AU Zutara smut, no less. _**eek**_

(I wonder how many times I can say 'smut' before I have to kill someone with a spanner.)

(...what?)

Takes place during the College Years (obviously, hence the smut).

Meanwhile.

* * *

Irrel's scenario: They meet, they schmooze, they sex.

* * *

**Entropy**  
Katara holds him desperately (this is suffocation, and he wishes never to breathe again), clinging vehemently, the compulsively blunt surfaces of her nails clawing (tearing, rending) mindlessly at his flesh, in an impossible attempt to keep him within the (ephemeral, infinite) space of her tangled embrace (where he begins, where he will end, where he has always belonged), as if her long arms will hold him together, as if she, alone, is the force that keeps him from breaking apart and scattering to the winds.

Zuko closes his eyes to the sapphire vision of her rapture and seeks to pull himself closer (but they're already so close that he feels as if he might be sinking _inside_ of her) even as she seems to understand and she arches (sharply, agonizingly, _perfectly_) so that the soft angle of her body engenders a sublime illusion: that one gossamer thread of light from the moon (an ethereal voyeur to their forbidden union) –filtered in thin, arced shafts from dark blinds—has aligned with the curve of her back and is supporting her weight entirely. The movement creates a sudden, blinding flash of colour behind the shuttered lids of his eyes, and she whispers the word that names him, and suddenly she _is_ the only real, cohesive entity in the whole of the universe, and greedily, he takes from her everything that he can (vanilla and chlorine and silk and heat and hushed professions) as he realizes –with equal parts dread and satisfaction—that if she ever lets him go, he _will_ shatter and disperse.

Morning, and the inevitable parting thereafter, will not be pleasant.

* * *

Is it sad that I think I did a better job writing Jet/Zuko?

FOR SHAME!

More later, though likely sans smut.

--smutsmutsmut--

--death by spanner--


	22. The Opposite of Diplomacy

FOR YOU, IRREL, YOU DAMNABLE SOUL-STEALER.

Let's begin.

First, Zuko lets slip that he maybe-accidentally-bonked-his-old-childhood-best-friend, and Jin Births a Seal.

Yes, really.

* * *

"Damn it, Zuko!" She slapped him, and he wondered at how that seemed to be happening a lot lately.

He still felt like an asshole, but this was…_Katara_, after all.

"She's the…she's twinkie girl I told you about." Her eyes went wide, and behind the thick veil of tears, there was resigned, despondent understanding.

Then, after what seemed an eternity of silence (save for the hitched sound of her breathing and the sporadic staggered sob),

"So, I guess…I guess you're breaking up with me?" Zuko hated himself. He was stuck between a rock and a…_Katara_, and he wanted desperately to latch onto the latter, but after all, what had the rock ever done to him apart from support and cherish him, even after he'd told it about his horrible past? (What a terrible, unfitting metaphor, Zuko thought, before he moved on.)

"…no," He said, and she looked up at him in surprise. "No, I'm not. I…you're…I…_do_ like you a lot." He started, staring at his hands.

"Don't sound so enthusiastic," She said, and it startled him to hear the bitterness in her voice.

"Jin," He turned to her now, looked her in the eye. "I…with Katara…I…we…"

"Zuko." She wasn't touching him, he noticed suddenly. She was always _touching_ him, to the point where it almost made him uncomfortable, but her hands were fisted carefully in her lap as she spoke. "If you don't love me, then you should just break up with me. Under normal circumstances, I'd try to convince you that all you need is some time, and maybe a little motivation, you know? But Zuko, these aren't…these aren't normal circumstances. I can't make you fall in love with me if you're in love with someone else. And it's not fair to me for you to keep leading me on if you're just going to go sleep with Katara every time she beats you up, which, from the way you tell it, is often. Or _was_ often, at the very least. In the end, I'm the one who gets hurt, and you get to constantly feel like shit about your decisions until it starts not to matter anymore and you dump me the day before my birthday. Or Valentine's Day." He took a moment to wrap his brain around Jin swearing, and then tuned in again. "If you leave this decision up to me, Zuko…then that scenario gets to come to life. Because I don't plan on letting you go. _I_ love _you_, and I think I've always been a bit of a masochist, so if you don't dump me, then I'm certainly not going to do it, either, because it gives me some hope that maybe you _don't_ love her, even though I can _see_ that you do, and _because_ you do, you'll always run to her when my back is turned, and I'll forgive you again and again and again, but it won't make a difference because you gave your heart away to her years before you ever met me."

"That's not—" He started, and was cut off.

"It _is_ true, Zuko. Don't argue with me. In this conversation, everything I say is automatically correct and right, because _I_ didn't sleep with my childhood best friend behind my significant other's back." His mouth clicked shut. "So, as I was saying…either you get rid of me, or you're stuck with me. But you should know that either way, I won't go down without a fight." He stared at her as if seeing her for the first time. She hadn't been the first person to befriend him since the Fire. And she certainly hadn't been the first to try and gain his romantic attentions (which he _couldn't_ figure out; when he wasn't angsting heavily he was playing video games or obsessing over "The Blue Spirit", and he couldn't fathom how that would scream –or even whisper, really—'girl-magnet').

She _had_ been the first to succeed, however, and he hadn't ever really put much thought into _why_. But now he understood where the attraction had come from. She was strong, like Katara (he winced internally at the unconscious comparison, and was very glad that she was not privy to his thoughts), but also bright and endearingly forward in a way uniquely _Jin_. She was _not_ Katara, and therefore he did not love her, but he did like her, and maybe…maybe eventually, if Katara hadn't abruptly reentered his life …maybe he _could_ have fallen in love with her. He wondered if he could manage to…no, he decided. He would return to Katara –it was inevitable, like the rising of the sun, like the waxing of the moon…and he couldn't keep doing that to Jin.

And at least Jin seemed to understand –even if she seriously didn't like it—that Zuko's heart belonged to someone else. He admired her perception and intelligence even as he steeled himself to crush her spirit.

And, like many a greater man before him, Zuko opened the conversation with tact, politesse, diplomatic consideration.

"We can still be friends…?"

Jin blinked.

And then she punched him.

* * *

I hadn't intended for her statement about not going down without a fight to be literal. But really, Zuko. Don't be a rere.

Um.

Gurglesplat?

(Isn't it wonderful how I've written Jin to just completely NOT care that Zuko slept with Katara? It's possibly because even SHE knows they belong together. Or maybe I'm just too lazy to deal with her emotions. Or just a poor author. Either way.)


End file.
